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All silent, list'ning sate; When Thus the Prince
Æneas from the lofty Couch began.
What you command, Great Queen, is to renew
Unutterable Woes; How Greece o'erturn'd
The Pow'r, and Realm deplorable of Troy:
Woes, which myself beheld; of which myself
Was one great Part. In op'ning such a Scene,
What Myrmidon, what Soldier in the Camp
Of dire Ulysses, could refrain from Tears?
And now the dewy Night is hast'ning swift
From Heav'n; and setting Stars persuade to Sleep.
But if you have such strong Desire to learn
Our great Misfortunes, and in brief to hear
Of Troy's last Pangs in Ruin: Tho' my Mind
Dreads the Remembrance, and shrinks back with Grief;
I will begin. The Leaders of the Greeks
Harrass'd with War, and by the Fates repuls'd,
So many rolling Years, an Horse erect
Of Mountain-Bulk, by Pallas' Art divine,
And joint the Ribs with Fir: This they pretend
A Vow for their Return; That Fame they spread.
Here in the hollow Sides some chosen Troops
They secretly inclose; and all the Womb,
And roomy Caverns with arm'd Soldiers fill.
In Sight lies Tenedos, an Isle renown'd
By Fame, and rich, while Priam's Kingdom stood;
Now but a Bay, and faithless Port for Ships.
Here, in the unregarded Shore, retir'd
They hide themselves; We strait suppose them gone,
And for Mycenæ fail'd before the Wind.
Therefore all Troy from long Restraint is freed;
Open are flung the Gates; and pleasant 'twas
To walk abroad, and view the Doric Camps,
The Posts abandon'd, and forsaken Shore.
Here lay the Dolopes, Achilles there;
Here rode the Fleet, and there the Troops engag'd.
Part, at Minerva's fatal Gift amaz'd,
Admire the Steed's prodigious Size; And first
(Whether by Fraud, or so the Fate of Troy
Requir'd) Thymætes moves to have it drawn
Within the Walls, and plac'd upon the Tow'r.
But Capys, and the more experienc'd Heads,
Persuade to plunge into the Sea, or burn,
The Grecian Treach'ry, and suspected Gifts;
At least to pierce the Timber, and explore
It's hollow Womb. The fickle Multitude
Vote Contradictions, and in Parts divide.
First, before all, surrounded with a Croud,
Laocoon, chafing, from the lofty Fort
Runs down, and Thus from far; What Frenzy blinds
My wretched Countrymen? Think you the Foes
Are gone? And Grecian Gifts can be sincere?
Thus is Ulysses known? Or in This Wood
Greeks are inclos'd; Or this Machine is form'd
Against our Ramparts, to inspect the Town,
And from above invade; Or some Design
There lies conceal'd: Ye Trojans, credit not
This Pile; Whate'er it be, I dread the Greeks,
Ev'n when They come with Presents in their Hands.

Thus having spoke, against the crooked Sides,
And jointed Belly, with prodigious Strength,
He whirl'd his mighty Spear: That quiv'ring stood;
A grumbling Sound came from within, and all
The hollow Caverns rattled at the Stroke.
And had not Fate, and our misguided Minds
Conspir'd; by his Advice our Steel had hewn
The Grecian Lurking-Dens: Thou, Troy, hadst Now
Been standing; and great Priam's Tow'rs entire.

Mean-while the Trojan Shepherds, shouting, drag'd
A Youth, with pinion'd Arms, before the King:
Who with Design had fall'n into their Hands,
Unknown; to manage the concerted Plot,
And open to the Greeks the Gates of Troy;
Bold to attempt, and on both sides prepar'd,
Either to meet Success, or certain Death.
Eager of such a Sight, the Trojan Youth
Flock round; and strive to make the Wretch their Sport.
Now hear the Grecian Wiles; and from the Guilt
Of One, learn All.
For in the Middle as he stood to View,
Confounded, and disarm'd; and all around
Survey'd the Trojan Troops; What Land, he cry'd,
Or Seas can now receive me? And what now
To wretched me remains? Who have no Place
Among the Greeks; The Trojans too incens'd
Demand to slake their Vengeance with my Blood.

By such pathetick Groans our Minds were chang'd;
All Fury ceas'd: We urge him to declare
His Birth, and Country; what Intelligence
He brought; what Hope in Bonds he entertain'd.

Reliev'd from Fear, at length he Thus proceeds,
All Things, O King, with Truth I will confess;
Nor will deny my self to be a Greek;
This first: For cruel Fortune, tho' she makes
Sinon a Wretch, shall never make him False.
If e'er the Name and Glory most renown'd
Of Palamede by Fame has reach'd your Ears;
Whom guiltless, and by forgery accus'd,
Because he spoke against the War, the Greeks
Condemn'd to Death, and now lament him dead:
Me, a close Friend to Him, and near in Blood,
My wealthless Father hither sent in Arms,
From my first Youth. While He in safety stood,
And prudent Counsels flourish'd in the State;
I too some share of Name and Credit bore.
But when by false Ulysses' envious Spight
(Things not unknown I speak) he left the World;
Afflicted, I consum'd my Days in Grief,
And sullen Privacy; and inly mourn'd
With Indignation for my guiltless Friend.
Nor could refrain (Fool that I was) from Talk;
And if a fit Occasion e'er was found,
If e'er with Conquest I return'd to Greece,
I vow'd Revenge; and with provoking Words
Exasp'rated his Malice. Hence my first
Of Ills: Ulysses scares me with new Crimes,
Scatters ambiguous Rumours thro' the Croud,
And conscious seeks fit Engines for my Fall.
Nor rested; 'till by Calchas' Ministry—
But why do I This nauseous Tale in vain
Revolve? Or why delay? Since all the Greeks
You equally regard; Enough is said:
Now take my Life; 'Tis what Ulysses wants,
And both th'Atridæ would rejoice to hear.

Eager we burn t'enquire, and know the Cause,
Unskill'd in Villany, and Grecian Arts:
He trembling, and with guileful Heart proceeds.
Oft have the Greeks desir'd t'abandon Troy,
To raise their Siege, and quit the tedious War,
Fatigu'd: And would They had: But oft the Sea
Tempestuous kept them back; and Southern Winds
Deter'd them. Chiefly, when this Timber-Steed
Was built; loud Storms roll'd rattling thro' the Sky.
In deep Suspense Eurypylus we send,
Instructed to consult the Delian God:
He from the Shrines This dreadful Answer brings.
With Blood, Ye Greeks, and with a Virgin slain
You sooth'd the Winds, when first you came to Troy;
With Blood you must procure a safe Return,
And by the Off'ring of a Grecian Life.
Soon as This Message reach'd the vulgar Ears,
Amazement seis'd on all; and chilling Dread
Ran thro' their Veins; whom Phœbus should demand,
Who should be doom'd to Death. Ulysses here
With Noise and Tumult to th'Assembly brings
The Prophet Calchas, urges him to tell
The Meaning of the Gods: And Many now
Fatal to me presag'd the Villain's Plot,
And silent saw th'Event. Ten days reserv'd,
And mute he stands; refusing with his Voice
To sentence any, or expose to Death.
'Till by Ulysses' Clamours scarce o'erpow'r'd,
At last by Compact he the silence breaks,
And Me declares the Victim: All assent;
And what Each fear'd would light upon himself,
All on the Ruin of one Wretch devolve.
And now the fatal Day was come; for me
The holy Ceremonies are prepar'd,
The season'd Cakes, and Fillets round my Head:
Death, I confess, I 'scap'd, and broke my Bonds;
And in a muddy Lake among the Reeds
Obscurely lurk'd by Night; 'till they should hoise
Their Sails, if haply such were their Design.
And now to me, forlorn, no Hope is left
Of e'er beholding my sweet Native Soil,
Or my dear Children, or my long'd-for Sire;
Whose forfeit Lives, perhaps, for my Escape,
They will demand; and expiate This Offence
By Their untimely Death. For which, by Heav'n,
By all the Gods, who witness to the Truth,
By all That Faith (if any such there be)
Which yet remains untainted in the World,
You suppliant I implore; commiserate
Such mighty Woes, commiserate a Wretch
Not meriting th'Afflictions he endures.

Mov'd by These Tears, we grant him Life; and first
Priam himself commands him to be freed
From his close Manacles, and cramping Chains.
Then Thus in friendly Words; Whoe'er Thou art,
Forget th'abandon'd Greeks; Thou shalt be Ours;
And answer true to what I now demand.
Why built they This prodigious Steed? What Aim?
Who is th'Inventer? What religious Vow
Is This they make? Or what Machine of War?

He said; The other furnish'd well with Fraud,
And Grecian Arts, upraises to the Stars
His Hands unmanacled; and Thus replies.
You, Ye eternal Fires, I here attest,
And your inviolable Deity;
Ye Swords, and Altars, which I 'scap'd; Ye Wreaths,
Which I, as Victim, wore: I now am free
To cancel all Engagements to the Greeks,
To hate them, and disclose whate'er they hide,
Oblig'd no longer by my Country's Laws.
Thou only keep thy Promise, and preserve,
O Troy, thy plighted Faith, Thy self preserv'd;
As I speak Truth, and make thee large Amends.
The only Hopes of Greece, since first the War
Commenc'd, depended on Minerva's Aid.
But since the Time, when Tydeus' impious Son,
And Ithacus, Artificer of Frauds,
Killing the Guards that watch'd the lofty Tow'r,
Dar'd from your hallow'd Temple to purloin
Minerva's fatal Image, and presum'd
With bloody Hands to touch her virgin Wreaths;
Our ebbing Hopes ran back, our Strength decay'd;
The Goddess in her Mind averse: Of which
Signs by undoubted Prodigies she gave.
Scarce was her Statue lodg'd within the Camp;
Her glaring Eye-balls flash'd with darted Flames,
Salt Sweat bedew'd her Limbs; and (strange to tell!)
Thrice, leaping from the Ground, she clash'd her Shield,
And shook her Lance. Immediately the Seer
Declares the Sea must be explor'd by Flight,
And Troy would never fall by Grecian Pow'rs;
Unless they bore fresh Auguries from Greece,
And brought the Goddess back, who o'er the Main
Was thither in their winding Ships convey'd.
Now that they sail for Greece, they furnish Arms,
And reconcile the Gods; Then, o'er the Sea
Returning, unexpected they will here
Arrive: So Calchas has dispos'd the Scheme.
In lieu of the Palladium, to appease
Th'offended Goddess, and That Crime attone;
This Figure, warn'd by Oracles, they rear'd.
Yet Calchas gave Command to build it huge
With jointed Oak, and raise it to the Sky;
Lest it should find admittance thro' the Gates,
And, drawn within the Walls of Troy, protect
The People by their old religious Rites.
For should you violate Minerva's Gift;
Then wide Destruction (rather may the Gods
Turn the dire Omen on Himself) would fall
On Priam's Empire, and the State of Troy.
But should it by your Hands be drawn within
Your City; Asia, of it self, would come
With pow'rful War to Pelopeian Walls,
And our Posterity Those Fates attend.

To such false Tales, and perjur'd Sinon's Art
We yield full Credit; by commanded Tears,
And Frauds, ensnar'd: Whom neither Diomede,
Nor fam'd Larissa's Hero could subdue,
Nor ten Years Conflict, nor a thousand Ships.

Here a Portent more dismal strikes our Sight,
And terrifies our unprovided Breasts.
Laocoon, Neptune's Priest by Lot assign'd,
With all the Pomp of solemn Sacrifice
A stately Bull before his Altars slew.
When lo! from Tenedos thro' the calm Deep
(With Horrour I relate) two dreadful Snakes,
With Orbs immense, incumbent on the Main
Together make to Shore: Whose Breasts erect
Among the Floods, and bloody-colour'd Crests
Stand high above the Waves: Their other Part,
Prone on the Billows, sweeps behind; and twists
Their spacious Backs in Spires: The frothy Sea
Roars, as they swim. And now they gain'd the Land,
(Their glaring Eyes distain'd with Blood, and Fire)
And lick'd their hissing Mouths with quiv'ring Tongues.
Pale at the sight we fly: Their sinuous Trains
They to Laocoon roll direct; and first
With dire Embrace about the little Limbs
Of his two Sons both Serpents curling round,
With cruel Fangs their tender Flesh devour.
Himself, with Arms advancing to their Help,
They next invade; and with prodigious Folds
Inclose him; now twice wreath'd about his Waist;
Their scaly Backs twice round his Neck convolv'd:
Their Heads and lofty Crests stand high in Air.
He labours with his Hands to tear the Knots,
(His Fillets with black Gore, and Poison smear'd)
And bellows hideously to Heav'n; as when
A Bull just wounded from the Altar flies,
And with his Neck eludes th'uncertain Axe.
But both the Serpents, sliding off, repair
To the high Fane, and stern Tritonia's Tow'r;
There lurk secure, beneath the Goddess' Feet,
And the round Concave of her bossy Shield.

A new Surprize, and Fear, 'till now unknown,
Runs thro' the trembling Breasts of All: And now
They say Laocoon's Crime had well deserv'd
His Fate; who durst profane the sacred Wood,
And hurl against it's Side his impious Spear.
All cry to draw the Steed within the Town,
And reconcile the Goddess.
We break the Ramparts, and a Gap disclose;
All to the Work addressing: Twisted Cords
About his Neck, and Wheels beneath his Feet
They fix: The dire Machine ascends our Walls,
Teeming with Arms; Boys, and unmarry'd Girls
Sing holy Metre round him, and rejoice
To touch the Cords: He still with threat'ning Nod
Slides on, and gains the Middle of the Town.
O Ilion! O my Country! Seat of Gods!
And You, Dardanian Walls, renown'd in War!
Four times ev'n in the Entrance fix'd he stood;
And four times Armour clatter'd in his Womb.
Yet thoughtless We push on; and blindly place
The fatal Monster on the sacred Tow'r.
Then too, obsequious to the God's Command,
Cassandra open'd her prophetick Mouth,
In vain, and fated ne'er to be believ'd.
We miserable, doom'd to see That Day
Our last, the sacred Turrets of the Gods
With festal Boughs, o'er all the City, crown.

Mean-while the Hemisphere rolls round, and Night
Swift rushes from the Sea; in dusky Shade
Involving Earth, and Heav'n, and Grecian Frauds.
The Trojans, scatter'd o'er the Walls, lie hush'd
In Silence; Sleep relieves their weary Limbs.
And now from Tenedos the Grecian Fleet
To the known Shores, with well-appointed Ships,
Sails, by the friendly Silence of the Moon;
The Royal Deck distinguish'd by it's Lights.
And now, protected by the partial Fates,
Sinon by stealth unlocks the Greeks inclos'd
In Timber-Caverns: Them to open Air
The Horse restores; and from his hollow Wood
The joyful Chiefs slide by a Rope let down;
Tisandrus, Sthenelus, and dire Ulysses,
Athamas, Thoas, Neoptolemus
Son of Achilles, and Machaon first,
And Menelaüs, and the Architect
Epëus, who the treach'rous Engine form'd.
They seize the Town, immers'd in Sleep, and Wine;
Kill all the Sentries; at the open'd Gates
Receive their conscious Troops, and join their Friends.

'Twas now the Season, when the first Repose,
Sweet Gift of Gods, on weary Mortals creeps:
Lo! in a Dream, before my slumb'ring Eyes
The much afflicted Hector seem'd to stand,
Profuse of Tears; drag'd with the Chariot's Wheels,
As heretofore; besmear'd with bloody Dust;
And thro' his swelling Feet transfix'd with Thongs.
Ah me! How was he from That Hector chang'd,
Who once return'd Triumphant in the Spoils
Of great Achilles; or who flung his Fire
Amidst the Grecian Vessels! Foul his Beard;
His Hair all clung, and clotted with his Blood:
And in his Body all the Wounds receiv'd
Before his Native Walls. I first began,
And weeping in These mournful Accents spoke.

O Thou, the Light, and certain Hope of Troy;
How, Hector, hast thou been detain'd? From whence
Com'st thou so long expected? How fatigu'd,
After such various Labours of the State,
And so much Slaughter of thy Countrymen,
Do we behold thee? What unworthy Hand
Has soil'd thy Face serene? Or why Those Wounds?

He no Reply to my vain Questions gave:
But with a dismal Groan, Ah! fly, he cry'd,
Fly, Goddess-born, and save thee from These Flames.
The Enemy has gain'd our Walls; and Troy
Is tumbling from it's Height. Enough is done
For Priam, and our Country: If any Hand
Could have sav'd Troy, by This she had been sav'd.
Her Gods, and her Religion she commends
To Thee; take These as Partners of thy Fates:
For These a City seek, which thou at last,
The Ocean having wander'd o'er, shalt build.

He said; And brought the Garlands from their Shrines,
Great Vesta's Image, and th'eternal Fire.

Mean-while, with Cries confus'd the Walls resound:
And tho' my Father's Palace fenc'd with Trees,
Stood from the Hurry of the Town retir'd;
The Noise grows loud, and th'undistinguish'd Din
Of clashing Arms rolls nearer. Rous'd from Sleep,
I gain the Summit of the high-built House;
And stand with list'ning Ears. As when a Flame
Invades a Field of Corn by driving Winds;
Or, rushing from the Hills, a rapid Flood
Lays flat the Product of the Plains, lays flat
The rising Crop, and Labours of the Plough,
And with a sweeping Torrent whirls the Woods;
On a high Rock the doubtful Peasant stands
Amaz'd, and in his Ear receives the Sound.
Now all the Truth appear'd, and Grecian Faith
Lay plain to View: Now vanquish'd by the Fire
Deiophobus' wide stately Palace falls
With noisy Ruin: Next Ucalegon
Blazes aloft; The broad Sigéan Sea
Glares with the Conflagration: Loudly sound
The Trumpets Clangor, and the Cries of Men.
Arms with mad Haste I snatch; tho' little Hope
There was from Arms: Yet eager glow'd my Mind
To form a Body for the Fight, and rush
Into the Cittadel among my Friends:
Anger and Rage precipitate my Soul,
And glorious 'twas, I thought, to die in Arms.

Lo! Pantheus, from the Grecian Darts escap'd,
Pantheus Otriades, Apollo's Priest,
Bears in his Hands the holy Utensils,
His little Grandson, and his vanquish'd Gods,
And runs, with pace distracted, to the Shore.
What Posture, Pantheus, has the main Affair?
What Castle do we seize? I scarce had spoke;
When groaning he reply'd. Our last of Days,
And Troy's inevitable Hour is come;
We Trojans have been, Ilium once has been,
And the long Glory of the Dardan Race:
To Argos cruel Jove has all transferr'd,
And Greece now domineers in flaming Troy.
The lofty Steed amidst the City pours
Arm'd Troops; and Sinon Conqu'ror scatters Fire,
Insulting: Others thro' the open'd Gates
Arrive by Thousands; a more num'rous Force
Than ever yet from great Mycenæ came.
Others with Arms the Passes of the Streets
Have seiz'd; Their Swords with glitt'ring Blades stand drawn,
Thirsting for Blood: The first Guards of the Gates
Scarce try the Fight, and blind Resistance make.

By Pantheus' Words, and by the Gods inflam'd,
I hurry swift into the Fires, and Arms;
Where dire Erinnys, where the Tumult calls,
And the loud Noise ascending to the Sky.
Ripheus, and Iphitus renown'd in Arms,
And Hypanis, and Dymas, by the Moon,
Join me, and thick'ning gather to my Side.
And young Chorœbus, Mygdon's Son; who came
By chance in Those unhappy Days to Troy,
With Love unbounded for Cassandra fir'd;
And, as a Son-in-Law, Assistance brought
To Priam, and the Trojans: hapless Youth,
Who the Advice of his prophetick Spouse
Had not regarded.
Whom when I saw compacted, and resolv'd
For Fight; I thus begin. Brave Youths, but brave
In vain, if you are fix'd to follow me
Daring the worst; the Posture of Affairs
You see; The Gods, by whom This Kingdom stood,
Have all withdrawn from their abandon'd Shrines,
And left their Altars: You would yet assist
The flaming City; let us die, and rush
Into the thickest Arms: To vanquish'd Men
The only Safety is to hope for None.

These Words add Rage to Courage: Thence like Wolves
Prouling in gloomy Shade, which Hunger blind
Urges along, while their forsaken Whelps
Expect them with dry Jaws; thro' Darts, thro' Foes
We march to certain Death, and take our way
Thro' the mid City: Night with dusky Shade
Involves us. Who the Horrour of That Night,
The Ruins and Confusion can express?
Or equal such prodigious Woes with Tears?
Down falls the ancient City, which so long
Had proudly reign'd: Thro' Houses, thro' the Streets,
And Temples, sluggish Carcasses, around,
Lie, roll'd in Heaps: Nor do the Trojans bleed
Alone; The Vanquish'd in their Turn resume
Their Courage; and the conqu'ring Grecians fall.
A Scene of Slaughter ev'ry where appears,
And Terrour, and a thousand Shapes of Death.

First of the Greeks, surrounded with a Croud,
Androgeos meets us, thinking us his own
Associate Troops; and Thus familiar speaks.
Haste, Soldiers; What Delay retards your Arms?
Others divide, and ravage burning Troy:
Come you This Moment from your lofty Ships?
He said; And strait (for Answer was not giv'n
So friendly as he thought) he found himself
Amidst his Foes: Surpriz'd with Fear he back
Recoil'd, and with his Speech repress'd his Steps.
Like One, who unawares in prickly Thorns
Has trod upon a Snake; and starting fled
Him rousing all his Venom, and with Rage
Heaving his speckled Neck. Androgeos so
Shudd'ring withdrew. We forwards rushing press,
And them, around inclos'd with clatt'ring Arms,
Unknowing of the place, and struck with Fear
We vanquish: Fortune crowns our first Attempt.

Flush'd with new Fire, and proud of his Success,
Chorœbus Thus advis'd. O Friends, the Way
To Conquest, which our first kind Fortune shews,
Let us pursue; and follow where she leads.
Our Habit let us change; and wear disguis'd
The Grecian Shields and Helmets: Who would ask
Whether 'twere Art, or Valour in a Foe?
Themselves shall give us Arms. Thus having said,
Himself puts on the bossy burnish'd Shield,
And crested Helmet which Androgeos wore,
And buckles to his Side the Grecian Sword.
The same does Ripheus, Dymas next, then all
The Youth, exulting: With the recent Spoils
Each arms himself: Among the Greeks we march,
Mingled, with Gods not Ours: In gloomy Shades,
Obscure, by various Skirmishes we fight;
And many of the Greeks we send to Hell.
Some to their Ships retire, and flying seek
The faithful Shores: While, seiz'd with Coward Fear,
Others again ascend the monstrous Horse,
And in the well-known Belly lurk conceal'd.

All human Confidence, alas! is vain,
When Heav'n opposes. From Minerva's Shrines,
And Temple, lo! the Priameian Maid,
Cassandra, with dishevel'd Hair is drag'd,
Throwing in vain her glaring Eyes to Heav'n;
Her Eyes; for Bonds confin'd her tender Hands.
Enrag'd by Love to Madness, such a Sight
Chorœbus could not bear; but desp'rate flings
Himself into the Middle of the Foes:
We follow all, into the thickest Arms
Rushing. Here first from the high Temple's Top
Our Friends with Darts o'erwhelm us; Thence ensues
A dreadful Slaughter, by our Armour's Form,
And by the Error of our Grecian Plumes.
Then at the Rescue of the Royal Maid
The Greeks enrag'd, invade us; Ajax fierce,
Both the Atridæ, all the Dolopes,
Gath'ring from ev'ry Part. As when the Winds
Adverse in Hurricane abrupt engage,
Notus, and Zephyrus, and Eurus swift
Exulting with his Eastern Steeds: The Woods
Roar loud; And Nereus with his Trident storms
Foamy, and from the Bottom stirs the Deep.
Those too, whom we by Stratagem dispers'd
In Night obscure, and drove thro' all the Town,
Appear; They first discern our borrow'd Arms,
And in our Speech the disagreeing Sounds.
Strait Multitudes o'erpow'r us: And before
Minerva's Altar, first Chorœbus falls,
Kill'd by Peneleus; Ripheus next, than whom
No Trojan was more just and good; tho' Heav'n
Decreed not so: Dymas, and Hypanis,
Stab'd by their Friends: Nor could thy Piety,
O Pantheus, nor the consecrated Wreaths
Of Phœbus, save thee from as hard a Fate.
You, Ye dear Ruins, and last Flames of Troy,
I call to witness; that I ne'er declin'd
The Greeks, nor shrink'd from Dangers in your Fall:
And had I been by Destiny decreed
To die; my Actions merited my Death.
Thence Iphitus, and Pelias, with Myself,
Were hurry'd: Iphitus infirm with Age,
And Pelias by a Wound Ulysses gave.

Hence the loud Noise to Priam's Royal Seat
Calls us away: Here fierce the Battle burns;
So fierce, as if in other Parts no War
Were heard, no other Slaughter thro' the Town.
A Fight so obstinate we see; and Crouds
Of Greeks, beneath a Canopy of Shields,
Thick rushing to the Palace; and the Gates
By Siege assaulted. Scaling-Ladders hang
Against the Walls: And by the Steps they strive
To gain the Doors; With their left Hands oppose
Their Shields to Storms of Arrows, with their right
Grasp at the Battlements. To Them adverse
The Trojans tumble Roofs, and Turrets down;
Seeing the worst, and in the last Extremes
Of Death, such Arms they use for their Defence;
Rolling down gilded Beams, the stately Pomp
Of Royal Ancestors: With Swords unsheath'd
Others stand thick below, and guard the Doors.
Fresh with recruited Rage, we fly to save
The Court, and re-inforce our fainting Friends.
There was an unregarded Postern Door,
'Twixt Priam's Palaces contiguous plac'd,
An Entry of a private Use; through which
Hapless Andromache, while Troy remain'd,
(Such was her Custom) unattended went,
To see the aged Royal Pair, and bring
Her young Astyanax to his Grandsire's Arms.
Up to the highest Battlements I go;
From whence the miserable Trojans flung
Their unavailing Darts. There stood a Tow'r
Tall, and conspicuous; from the lofty Roof
Rais'd to the Stars: From whence all Troy we view'd,
The Grecian Navy, and the Grecian Camp.
This we encompass round; and with our Steel,
Just where th'extremest Planks disjointed gave
Easiest Access, we rend it from on high
Push'd forward: Swift with Ruin, loud with Noise,
It thunders down, and on the Grecian Troops
With wide Destruction falls: But Others still
Succeed them; Nor do Stones, or any Kind
Of Weapons cease to fly.
In the first Portal, storming at the Door,
Pyrrhus exults; with Arms, and brazen Light
Refulgent. Like a Snake, in open Air;
Who all the Winter, fed with noxious Herbs,
And swoln with Poison, lurk'd in Earth, and there
Cast his old Skin; now glitt'ring, new with Scales,
And sleek in Youth, he rolls his slipp'ry Spires;
Erect against the Sun his burnish'd Breast
Uprears, and darts his quiv'ring forky Tongue.
With Him his Squire Automedon, who drove
Achilles' Steeds, great Periphas, and all
The Scyrian Youth advance; and to the Top
Hurl flaming Brands: Himself, before the rest,
Grasping a Battle-Axe, the stubborn Doors
Bursts thro', and from their massy Hinges rends
The brazen Posts; Now, having hewn the Beams,
He splits their solid Timber, and a Gap
Discloses wide. Th'interior Court appears;
Long Gali'ries, Priam's Rooms of State, and all
Th'Imperial Pomp of ancient Kings they see,
And Sentries standing at the Doors in Arms.

But with confus'd Laments, the inner Rooms,
With Tumult, Noise, and wild Distraction, sound;
The echoing Palace rings with female Shrieks,
And the shrill Clamour beats the golden Stars.
From place to place the trembling Matrons run,
Thro' the vast Court; and cling, and hug, and kiss
The Pillars: Pyrrhus with his Father's Fire
Still pushes on; Nor can the Bars, or Guards
Sustain his Fury: To the batt'ring Rams
The Gate gives way; And from their Hinges torn
The solid Posts lie flat. A spacious Breach
Is made; The thronging Greeks break in; then kill
The first they meet; and with arm'd Soldiers croud
The rich Apartments. With less rapid Force
A foamy River, when th'opposing Dams
Are broken down, rolls rushing o'er the Plain,
And sweeping whirls the Cattle with their Folds.
These Eyes saw Pyrrhus raging, smear'd with Gore,
And both th'Atridæ in the Entrance storm;
Amidst an hundred Daughters saw the Queen;
And Priam, on the Altars, with his Blood
Pollute Those hallow'd Fires, which he himself
Had consecrated. Fifty Bridal-Rooms,
(So great their Hopes of num'rous future Heirs)
The Posts with Trophies, and Barbarick Gold
Magnificent, lay smoking on the Ground;
Where the Flames fail, the Greeks supply their place.

Perhaps for Priam's Fate you will enquire.
He, when he saw the captive City's Fall,
His Gates torn off their Hinges, and the Foe
Within his Palace, Armour long disus'd,
With vain Attempt, upon his Shoulders hangs,
Trembling with feeble Age; and to his Side
Girds an unprofitable Sword: then flings
Himself, resolv'd to die, among the Foes.
Just in the Centre of the Court, beneath
The open Sky, a spacious Altar stood;
Near it an ancient Laurel, hanging o'er
The sacred Hearth, and cov'ring with it's Shade
The Houshold-Gods. Here Hecuba, and all
Her Daughters, like a Flock of trembling Doves
Driv'n by a Tempest, vainly round the Shrines,
Clinging, embrac'd the Statues of the Gods.
But when in youthful Arms she saw the King;
What desp'rate Rage, she cry'd, what Frenzy moves
My wretched Husband to be harness'd Thus?
Or whither wouldst thou? Not such Aid as Thine,
Nor such Defenders does the Time require;
Not, tho' my Hector's self were here in Arms.
But come; This Altar shall protect us All:
At least we will be join'd in Death. This said,
She to her self receiv'd the aged King,
And plac'd him trembling in the sacred Seat.

When lo! Polites, one of Priam's Sons,
By slaught'ring Pyrrhus press'd, thro' Darts, thro' Foes,
Gazing about, runs round the spacious Court,
And wounded thro' the winding Cloysters flies.
Him, ardent, threat'ning with a mortal Dart,
Pyrrhus pursues; just ready with his Hand
To seize him, and discharge the deadly Blow.
At length, arriv'd before his Parents' Eyes,
He fell; and, welt'ring in a Flood of Gore,
Pour'd out his Soul. Here Priam, tho' beset
With Death on ev'ry side, could not refrain;
But Thus indulg'd his Rage. For Crimes like These,
So bold, and monstrous, may the righteous Gods
(If Heav'n has any Justice, that regards
Such Outrages) reward thee, as thy Deeds
Deserve; who thus hast forc'd me to behold
The Murder of my Son, and with his Blood,
Barbarian! couldst pollute a Father's Sight.
Not so Achilles, whom with lying Vaunt
Thou call'st Thy Father; he not so behav'd
To Priam his Foe: But rev'rencing the Rights,
And Faith of Suppliants, Hector's Corps restor'd
To Burial; and dismiss'd me to my Realms.

So spake the aged Sire; And feebly flung,
Without a Wound, an unperforming Dart:
Which, by the Target's sounding Brass repuls'd,
Hung on the Surface of it's bossy Orb.
To whom Thus Pyrrhus. Thou shalt then relate
Such Crimes; and bear This Message to my Sire
Achilles; Him remember to inform
Of my foul Deeds, and his degen'rate Boy:
Now die. Then drags him to the sacred Hearth,
Trembling, and sliding, on the slipp'ry Ground,
In his Son's Blood; and, twisting in his Hair
His Left hand, with the Right his glitt'ring Sword
Deep to the Hilt he plunges in his Side.
Such was the End of Priam's Fates; the last
Concluding Scene, which Destiny decreed
To Asia's Lord; once o'er so many Realms,
And Nations, Sov'reign Monarch; having seen
His Troy in Flames, and tumbling to the Ground:
Upon the Shore the Royal Body lies
Expos'd; the Head from off the Shoulders torn;
A Trunk dishonour'd, and without a Name.

Here Horrour first surrounded me. Amaz'd
I stood; My Father's Image to my Mind
It self presented; when I saw the King,
In Age his Equal, by a barb'rous Wound
Expiring: To my Thoughts at once recurr'd
My dear Creüsa left at home, my House
Expos'd to Plunder, and th'impending Fate
Of young Iülus. Round I look'd, to see
What Force was near: All harrass'd out were gone;
Some leaping to the Ground; Some, spent and sick
With Toil, had flung themselves into the Flames.

Now I alone remain'd; When in the Porch
Of Vesta's Temple, Helen I behold
Silent, and lurking in the sacred Seat.
The glaring Conflagration, as I rove,
And throw my Eyes around, affords me Light.
There She, the common Pest of Greece, and Troy,
Fearing the Trojans for their City's Fall
Incens'd, the just Resentments of the Greeks,
And her abandon'd Husband's Rage, conceal'd
Her self, and skulking on the Altars sate
The curst Incendiary. Within my Breast
Glow'd furious Fires, inflam'd me to revenge
My ruin'd Country, and due Punishment
Inflict on Crimes. Shall then This Sorc'ress safe
Visit Mycenæ, and her Native Soil?
Shall she, a Queen, in pompous Triumph ride,
Her Consort, Parents, House, and Children see,
Surrounded with our Captive Trojan Dames:
While Priam by the Sword expires, Troy burns,
The Dardan Shore so often sweats with Blood?
Not so: For tho' a Woman's Death affords
No Glory, nor does Fame the Conquest crown;
At least the Praise of having eas'd the World
Of such a Trait'ress shall be Mine; I'll take
Due Vengeance: 'Twill be some Relief, to glut
My Rage, and with a Sacrifice so just
The Manes of my Country to appease.

Such Passions tossing in my stormy Breast,
I hurry forward: When to Sight reveal'd
My heav'nly Parent, never seen before
So clearly, to my Eyes her self presents,
Confess'd a Goddess: Thro' the dusky Shades
She shone in Light serene; Such, and as great
As she appears in Heav'n. My Arm she grasp'd;
And, as she held me, from her rosy Mouth
These Accents fell. What fierce Resentment boils
Thy untam'd Rage, my Son, to such a height?
Why do'st thou storm? Or whither is thy Care
For Us withdrawn? Will you not rather think,
Where 'twas you left your aged Father, where
Your Wife Creüsa; whether yet She lives,
And young Ascanius? Whom the Grecian Troops
All hover round; And, did not my Concern
Prevent, the fiery Tempest had e'er this
Consum'd them, or the hostile Sword devour'd.
'Tis not Tyndarian Helen's hated Form,
Nor much blam'd Paris; Heav'n, inclement Heav'n
O'erturns This Realm, and levels Tow'ring Troy.
Behold, (for I'll remove That dewy Mist,
Which dulls thy Sight, and dims thy mortal Eyes;
Suspect not thou my Precepts, nor refuse,
Diffiding, to obey thy Mother's Words:)
Here, where you see That Rubbish, Heaps confus'd,
Stones wrench'd from Stones, and thick redounding Smoke
Blended with Clouds of Dust; great Neptune shakes
The Walls, and with his massy Trident heaves
The City from it's deep Foundations. There
Relentless Juno, girt with Steel, has seiz'd
The Scæan Gates; and, raging, from their Ships
Calls her confed'rate Forces.
Next, (That way bend thy Eyes) the lofty Tow'rs
Tritonian Pallas has possess'd; There sits,
With her dire Gorgon, in a beamy Cloud,
Effulgent. Jove himself the Grecian Troops
With Courage, and new Strength supplies; Himself
Excites the Gods against the Dardan Arms.
Escape by Flight, my Son, and end thy Toil;
I always will be present to thy Aid,
And place thee safe within thy Father's Walls.
She said; and in th'involving Shades retir'd:
The direful Shapes appear, and Foes to Troy
Forms of the awful Gods.
All Ilium now I saw among the Fires
Sinking lie flat; and from it's Bottom turn'd
Down falls Neptunian Troy. As when an Ashe
Aged, and tall, is on the Mountains hewn
By Rusticks; who in emulation strive
With Strokes of Axes, and repeated Steel
To overturn it: Oft it nods, and shakes
It's leafy Top; still tott'ring, 'till at length
Subdu'd by Wounds, it groans it's last, and torn
From the high Ridge with cumb'rous Ruin falls.
Conducted by the Godhead I descend;
Dispatch'd, by her Protection, thro' the Flames,
And Foes: The Darts give way, the Flames retire.

But when I came within my Father's Walls;
He, whom I first propos'd, and first desir'd
Up the high Mountains to convey, refus'd,
After the Sack of Troy, to save his Life,
And suffer Exile. You, he cry'd, whose Blood
Runs vigorous in youthful Veins, do You
Secure yourselves by Flight.
Me did the Gods permit to live, This Seat
They would have left me: 'Tis enough, and more,
That I have seen one Ruin, and surviv'd
The captive City. Thus, O! Thus of Me
Take your Farewel; and leave This lifeless Corps.
With my own Hand myself may find a Death:
The Foe will pity me, and hither come
For Spoils: The Ceremony of a Grave
Is easily dispens'd with: Long abhorr'd
By Heav'n, and useless to the World, I drag
A wretched Being; since with Light'ning's Flash
Jove blasted me, and sing'd me with his Fire.

He said; and in his Purpose persever'd:
We, on the other side, dissolv'd in Tears,
My Wife Creüsa, young Ascanius, all
The Family, intreat him not to urge
The Ruin of Himself, and Us; nor sink
Beneath the Load of Fate. He still denies,
And obstinately resolute persists.
Again I rush to Arms, and desp'rate wish
My Death: For now what Fortune could I try?
What Measures take? Could you, my Father, think
I would remove from hence, and leave You here?
Thus could you wrong my Filial Piety?
If Heav'n decrees that nothing shall remain
Of so renown'd a City; and your Will
Stands fix'd to add yourself, and all your Friends
To falling Troy: The Means of such a Death
Are obvious. Reeking fresh with Priam's Blood,
Pyrrhus will soon be here; who slew the Son
Before his Father's Eyes, the Father's self
Before his Altars. Was it then for This,
Celestial Parent, that you brought me safe
Thro' Flames, and Jav'lins; that I might behold
Th'insulting Foe within our Palace-Walls,
Ascanius, and my Father, and my dear
Creüsa, butcher'd in each other's Blood?
Arms, Arms, my Friends; Tho' vanquish'd, This last Day
Calls us to Arms: Give me the Greeks again;
Off; let me go: I'll see the Fight renew'd;
This Day we will not All die unreveng'd.

Once more I gird on Arms, refit my Shield
To my left Hand, and rushing seek the Door.
When lo! Creüsa in the Entrance clasp'd
My Feet, there clinging close; and to his Sire
Held out my young Iülus: If you go
To die, take Us with you in all Extremes:
Or if you yet have any Hope conceiv'd
In taking Arms; defend This Mansion first;
In which your Father, and your little Son
Are left, and I who once was call'd your Wife.

Shrieking she spoke; and with her shrill Laments
Fill'd all the Palace: When a Prodigy
Sudden, and wond'rous to relate, appear'd.
For as before his weeping Parents Eyes
He stood, between our Hands; lo! from the Head
Of young Iülus, rose a glimm'ring Flame;
Harmless with gentle Touch it glided o'er
His Hair, and lambent round his Temples fed.
Trembling with Fear, we brush the burning Locks;
And Water bring, to quench the sacred Fire.
But old Anchises joyful lifts his Eyes
To Heav'n, and stretches out his suppliant Hands.
Almighty Jove, if Thou by any Prayers
Art mov'd, this once behold us; and if aught
Our Piety deserves, afford us now
Thy Succour, and This Prodigy confirm.

He scarce had ended; With a sudden Crash
It thunder'd to the Left; and thro' the Shades
A falling Star from Heav'n with glaring Light
Glided along, and drew a Trail of Flame.
O'er the high Palace-Top we saw it run,
And hide itself within th'Idæan Grove,
Marking our Way; th'indented Path shines bright,
In a long Track; and Sulphur smokes around.

At This o'erpow'r'd, Anchises rose, the Gods
Invoking; and ador'd the sacred Star.
Now, now there's no Delay; where-e'er you lead,
I follow: You, our Country-Gods, preserve
This House, preserve my Grandson: These Portents
Are yours; and Troy subsists involv'd in You.
I yield, my Son; no longer I refuse
T'accompany your flight. He said; and now
The Fire more loudly roars; and from the Walls
The blazing Torrent nearer rolls the Flames.
Haste then, my Father; on my Shoulders lay
Your aged Body; I the Load will bear,
Nor think That Labour hard: Whatever Chance
Betides us; Both shall share one common Fate,
Escape together, or together fall.
Iülus close by me shall go; my Wife
Behind observe our Steps: You, Servants, mark
My Words with Care. Without the City stands,
On rising Ground, an old forsaken Fane
Of Ceres; and an ancient Cypress near,
By the Religion of our Ancestors
Preserv'd for Ages: There from diff'rent Parts
We all will meet in One. The holy Things
Take you, my Father, and our Country-Gods:
In me 'twere Guilt to touch them, just return'd
Recent from so much Slaughter, and besmear'd
With War; 'till in the living Stream I wash
The Blood away.
Thus having said, a Lion's tawny Hide
I o'er my Neck, and ample Shoulders throw,
And take my Burthen: Young Iülus links
His Hand in mine, and with unequal Steps
Runs by his Father's Side: My Wife behind
Follows: Thro' gloomy Shades we search our Way.
And me, whom just before no missile Darts,
Nor adverse Files of charging Greeks could move,
Now ev'ry Breath of Air, each ruffling Sound
Alarms, sollicitous for Him I led,
And Him I bore. Now near the Gates I came;
And thought all Dangers of the Way o'erpass'd;
When suddenly the Sound of trampling Feet
Approach'd our Ears: And, looking thro' the Shades,
My Father cry'd, Fly, fly, my Son; They come;
I see their burnish'd Brass, and glaring Shields.
Here some unfriendly Pow'r (I know not who)
Bereft me of my Reason, and disturb'd
My Mind: For as I shun'd the noted Streets,
And sought By-ways, and Passages unknown;
I lost my dear Creüsa: Whether snatch'd
By Fate, she stay'd, or straggled from the Way,
Or quite fatigu'd sate down to ease her Toil,
Is doubtful; But she never was restor'd,
Since that, to her unhappy Husband's Sight.
Nor did I once look back, or recollect
My Thoughts; 'till to the antiquated Dome
Of Ceres, and the sacred Seat we came:
There when we view'd our Number, she alone
Of all was wanting; and deceiv'd her Friends,
Her Son, and Husband. Raving with Distress,
Whom did I not accuse, of Gods, and Men?
Or what more cruel did I ever see
In sack'd, and burning Troy? My Father, Son,
And Country-Gods, committed to my Friends
I leave, and hide them in a winding Vale.
Back to the City I repair, and shine
In Steel; resolv'd all Dangers to renew,
Explore all Troy, and once more stake my Life.
First to the Walls, and Gates, thro' which I came,
In Darkness I return; with Care observe
My former Steps, and round me throw my Eyes
Horrour, and ev'n the dismal Silence, frights
My gloomy Thoughts. Thence Home I go, to see
If haply she had thither back repair'd:
Instead of Her, the thronging Greeks had seiz'd,
And fill'd the Palace: Strait devouring Flames
To the high Roof are hurl'd; a Storm of Fire
Rages aloft, and thunders in the Sky.
Next I revisit Priam's Royal Seat;
There, in the empty Iles of Juno's Fane,
Phœnix, and dire Ulysses, chosen Guards,
Watch o'er the Prey. There Trojan Treasure snatch'd
From burning Shrines, the Tables of the Gods,
Goblets of massy Gold, and captive Robes
Lie pil'd in Heaps; Children, and trembling Dames,
Rank'd in long Rows, stand round.
Advent'rous thro' the Shades to send my Voice,
I call aloud, and vainly fill the Streets
With Repetition of Creüsa's Name.
Thus as I search'd impatient o'er the Town,
With endless Labour; to my Eyes appear'd
Her pensive Ghost, my dear Creüsa's Shade,
A Form enlarg'd, and bigger than the Life.
Aghast I stood; uprose my Hair erect;
And to my Mouth my Speech with Horrour cleav'd.
At length she spoke, and Thus reliev'd my Cares.
Why, my dear Lord, do you so far indulge
Your restless Toil? Without the Pow'rs Divine
These Things are not dispos'd; nor is it giv'n
To you to carry your Creüsa's hence
Companion of your Voyage; 'Tis deny'd
By Him, the Sov'reign Monarch of the Skies.
You a long Exile shall explore, and plough
A wide Extent of Ocean; 'till at last
At rich Hesperia's Shore you shall arrive,
Where Lydian Tyber's gentle Train divides
The fertil Glebe: There wish'd Success, for you,
A Kingdom, and a Royal Consort wait.
Lament no more your lov'd Creüsa's Loss:
I never shall behold the proud Abodes
Of Myrmidons, or Dolopes; nor go
A Captive Servant to the Grecian Dames;
A Trojan Princess born, and, as your Wife,
Daughter to Venus,
But the Majestick Mother of the Gods
Detains me in these Coasts: Farewel; and love
Your Son, our common Care. Thus having spoke,
Me weeping, and a thousand Things to say
Desiring, she forsook, and vanish'd swift
Into the yielding Air. I thrice assay'd
About her Neck to throw my folding Arms:
Thrice, vainly grasp'd at, from their Circle flew
Th'unbody'd Fantom, light as fleeting Winds,
And like a slipp'ry Dream. The Night now spent,
To my Associates I at last return,
And find a Conflux of new Followers there,
Admiring at their Number; Matrons, Men,
With Youth assembled, and prepar'd for Flight,
(A wretched Vulgar!) From all Parts they came
Furnish'd with Arms, and Courage, and prepar'd
To share my Fortune; to whatever Coasts
My Conduct should transport them o'er the Seas.
Now Lucifer on Ida's Top arose,
And usher'd in the Day; the conqu'ring Greeks
Possess'd the Passes of the Gates; And now
No Hope of Aid was left us: I retire,
Bearing my Father, and ascend the Hill.